Maybe When
by Treesh Aradia
Summary: When it is all over, there is always something that remains. Eventual LEYTON.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Maybe When

Author: Treesh Aradia  
Rating: PT  
Disclaimer: Not mine  
Spoilers: Where we are now  
Summary: When it is all over, there is always something that remains.   
Pairing: Eventual Leyton. Peyton, Lucas

A/n: I am not too sure about the timeline, only that it's more or less after the triangle and when things have settled somewhat. The Brooke cheating issue has not happened, anything around that period can be taken to be non-existent also.

_The past is never dead, it is not even past._

William Faulkner

_Footfalls echo in the memory  
Down the passage which we did not take  
Towards the door we never opened  
_T.S. Eliot

**O n e**

How did I get to be in this sticky situation? Brooke Davis, cheerleader extraordinaire, asks herself as she looks at the horde of people at her party. In particular her best friend and her on-off _boyfriend_: Peyton and Lucas who were busy discussing, she assumes, the tragic musical taste of today's collective youth and their lack of CDs that involve the title: sex/drugs/alcohol/other various proclivities that would summarize the rock movement of the seventies. She sees their stance, both leaning toward each other and heads bent, creating their own personal bubble amidst the roar and bass of Fifty Cent's Candy Shop and she imagines Peyton's words of Led Zep being essential to every angst ridden youth and that Avril can eff off, permanently.

That's Peyton for you, Brooke snarks.

Lucas touches Peyton's arm, and they laugh at what he says, and the green monster abruptly bubbles to the surface of her good will and philanthropic nature. She had not much problems in terms of allowing their interaction without much qualms. However, it was in these off moments that Brooke feels awkward and snappish, and sometimes she just so badly wants to pull him away from her girly, just because.

And it was with this in mind that Brooke stalks toward them, subtly and covertly, trying to subvert their current moment, and even if they had lots of moments before, Brooke never really cared until she sees first hand just how scary those moments are, how profound and potentially destructive it could be to her own relations with Lucas, she _should_ know after all.

"Hey there!" she calls out to them cheerfully and loudly, careful to make it seem nonchalant. They break away, eye contact and distance now directed towards her, and Brooke feels a bit more secure, though the nagging feeling never really leaves.

"Brooke." Lucas greets back, eyebrow raised. They were currently at the _off_ status of their relationship, even though she at least knows those are never permanent. She doesn't allow it, and he relents always.

Peyton smiles politely, and nods.

"So what are you guys talking about? Seemed cozy." And just because Brooke was a master of games and subtlety, she feels the need to express some modicum of displeasure at their comfortable closeness, something she sometimes feels she lacks with Lucas when they are alone. They were intimately close, passionately so, but they never had a quiet moment and she feels the need to remind them to keep their distance, so as not to repeat their mistake.

Lucas frowns and Peyton looks off to the side.

"We were just talking about Marquez' Hundred Years of Solitude, Brooke, nothing else." Lucas explains, though the frown still lingers.

Quickly, Brooke retracts back "oh I know that, just that I was getting bored." She clings to his arm and starts the process of pulling him away. Hundred years of solitude. Huh, something else they shared that she didn't. Not that she was ignorant of books (she guesses that the name in question was the title of one) but she always felt that there were more important things in life than books, at least when in the company of _her_ boyfriend.

He struggles with her vice-like hold, "I thought you were still pissed off at my not attending your dad's annual golf party with you."

Brooke shakes her head, smiling "I was, but I think it's time I forgive and forget." With that she leans in and whispers the things they could be doing right about now to make up for lost time. Lucas pauses, face a hint of scarlet as Peyton wishes she was anywhere but in front of them both.

"Come on! Excuse us Peyt girly." And with that Brooke drags her semi-willing boyfriend up the stairs into a more private setting.

She doesn't miss the apologetic look he throws her friend who was at the moment being called by Nathan to get her freak on, which Peyton gladly does with her dark haired friend, happy to forget the confrontation, for that was what it really was.

Brooke doesn't read much into that look, knowing that it was only stemmed from guilt at leaving so abruptly. She also reminds herself that he was with her now, and that was important.

Because at the end of the day, he was with her, and he was hers.

She ignores the fact that the slight pause in Lucas' eyes when her lips reach his might not be because of his fear of getting caught in a compromising position, but because it might be _her_ that would stumble in to use the restroom.

That he wants to spare her that much, escapes Brooke as she deepens their lip lock, and she never questions that maybe somewhere along the line, platonic feelings might be a bit more affectionate than its intended sentiments.


	2. Chapter 2

**T w o  
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They dance and she looses herself in the susurrations of the music, the words drumming into her veins like antacids in her blood stream. Her eyes are closed and she welcomes the thrumming and the feel of his hands on her hips, guiding her along to the rhythm. When she's in her element, when she is without the memory and thoughts, and here she is effulgently beautiful, broken as she is, detached as she tries to be.

She forgets what's transpiring in Brooke's bedroom and tries as she might to ignore the slight feeling of indigestion at the images she unwillingly conjures of them both. She just moves to the music, a fluid, lithe, writhing form, lost in the madness of her mind and the gloom of her current predicament.

And abruptly the music stops, and while they wait for the new track, her dance partner and good friend leads her to the porch.

He sees her eyes and feels like he has seen the world in black and shades of monotonous grey. The death of her mother, the lost of that little piece of trust she has left, they are like insignias flashing and brilliant, so bright that it hurts his irises. And he so wants to help her, and yet knows that it might kill her to know that he's only doing out of some sense of obligation and pity.

"So what's up?" she asks, sitting on the rail, facing him and staring at him with her perpetual head tilt and slight side smile, complete with Peyt-dimples.

He smiles back; a bit goofily to lighten her mood while he simultaneously reflects on how it is so easy for them to fall back on a history of friendship and late-night channel surfing. Contrary to popular belief, they did share some good times, at least until shit hit the fan and they weren't so together anymore.

"Just wondering how you're holding up," he sees her shrug and knows that despite its casual visage, he knows there is so much more going on with her, "I saw the little triangle there, and it didn't look so amicable."

She raises her eyebrows, picking up on the three syllabic word. He smirks. He's been studying. "Everything's ok Nate, no worries."

"So drawing about it tonight then?" She hops down from her perch and gives him a friendly punch, which he tries to shrug off, and ends up nudging her accidentally. She hits him back again. Falling back into what they were, so easily.

"So going to watch mindless TV till you fall asleep in front of your couch tonight then?" He stares at her, wordless.

Whatever the case they always have their familiar barbs and quips to lighten the mood and smooth out the tangles. That was Peyton and Nathan, people who were at their optimum when they have their security blanket of verbal punches and easy jokes. It helped them ignore the white elephant in the middle of their proverbial room.

"Touche."

She laughs and they jostle each other, trying to enter the doorway first, and as Peyton runs in clearly the victor this round, Nate realizes something.

Maybe he's not really doing it for pity after all.


	3. Chapter 3

**I would like to thank the people who reviewed. However I have no idea whether I should keep going with this story or not, seeing as how response for it is rather quiet, so I'll post up this chapter and I'll see if I should or not.**

**T h r e e**

The next day, she stands in front of her locker, packing her pencils in and taking out her pom-poms.

A transition of depth to surface.

The weekend flew past and she barely recollected what she did the day after the party, seeming instead to focus only on one moment in that short period of time and still she was as confused as before why she did so.

"Hey!" Lucas calls, ball in hand, leaning against the side of the adjacent locker, blue eyes and lips in a full-fledge smile.

She remembers why and struggles to keep herself in check. She must not go asunder.

"Hi!" She cringes slightly at her superfluously chirpy response back, which earns her a raised eyebrow. She shrugs meekly.

"So wanna hang out and listen to Switchfoot?" He looks hopeful and scared.

Hopes that she would say yes and scared she might remember that he had a girlfriend and that they've done this before and they really cannot afford to. And scared that if she did say yes, he would enjoy himself too much and forget for a moment that he really shouldn't. And then also scared that when he kisses her, like what he would most definitely do if they were given an inkling of a chance, she would not kiss him back and everything he thought was mutual was a delusion made from his obsession with her.

He waits and watches as she considers. _Please_…

He silently _whoops_ as she nods her assent. "Great! See you after practice."

And he does something he wishes he could regret.

He kisses her on the lips before smirking and running towards the gymnasium, not catching the slight smile on her face now.

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Her day was full of questions to which her answers were yeses. It made the people who did the questioning happy, and made Ty Mckenzie, the new student and new quarterback for the football team, especially so.

Ty who was crouching in his pit bull position, calling out the game play with a hut,hut,hut following it, gets bombed by his teammates for daydreaming later in the game.

The red and white ball that falls into his hand stuns Ty out of his memory of Peyton agreeing to go out with him to the "Sound Ministry" club in the outskirts of town this Friday.

However the rain of sweaty teenage boys with equally heavy BO piled up on him a second later reminds him of what he should have been thinking of.

And it isn't Peyton Sawyer.

"McK! Get your head in the game!" His coach shouts to him, and even then, the goofy smile he has on his face, amidst the new cuts and bruises from his torture practice today does not fade.

He was going out with Peyton.

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Brooke's sources never fails her when she needs it the most and she did need it now, since her best friend was keeping valuable information from her.

"P.Sawyer! You lying bitch. Why did you not tell me you have a date with Ty McKenzie! Who is only the hottest thang around." Brooke asks her loudly, her eyes narrow slits and boring playfully at her friend.

Peyton raises her arms up, in a surrender posture, 'hey it's not lying if I haven't the chance to tell you yet! How did you find out?"

Brooke slaps her butt playfully, "I have my sources!"

And then practice went on again, break time over.

It was only as she was getting back into position that she feels his eyes on her. She smiles back and she feels a slight pang as he doesn't return it, choosing instead to shake his head and return to the game.

And Peyton curses Brooke's loud mouth and intentionally slips up during practice, making Brooke irritated as she always kept silent when it was her best friend who did not follow the proper routine.

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Practice ends shortly after and Brooke yaps on about the new dress she wants to get for the party this Friday. "So you have to come and see, it's this black little confection that will make the boys drool! But as you already know P.Sawyer, they always drool when the Queen B is around."

Peyton stands there uncomfortable. She was expected somewhere else today. With someone else. And Brooke tugging on her arm wasn't making it easy.

"I am busy today."

Brooke stops. "Since when? And come on, drawing stick figures isn't exactly what I would call an exciting itinerary."

Peyton rolls her eyes. Brooke would think so. And this just made it so much easier for her. "I need to go home alright? I am waiting for my dads call."

Brooke huffs indignantly. "Well, alright, if it's for that delicious dad of yours, then I guess I can't be a bitch. Take care chica. This little lady has a credit card to burn." And with that, Brooke is gone in a flash.

And the pang Peyton now experiences feels like an anvil on her conscience.


	4. Chapter 4

**It's amazing how I got this chapter out, I never figured I would expand this fic, I have been feeling pretty dead-ish. But rest assured, there will be more shortly, I feel the muse's clarion call beckoning me again. Thank you for the reviews, I love them. Give me more.**

**F o u r**

Previously …

_Brooke huffs indignantly. "Well, alright, if it's for that delicious dad of yours, then I guess I can't be a bitch. Take care chica. This little lady has a credit card to burn." And with that, Brooke is gone in a flash. _

_And the pang Peyton now experiences feels like an anvil on her conscience. _

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She waits in his room, looking at the CDs in his collection.

She wonders why he didn't show up after his practice was over, since she was waiting for him at the lot - their usual spot whenever they used to sneak out. She shakes her head, ridding herself of the idea that this was what they were doing now. It wasn't. They were listening to CDs. Nothing else.

He never showed and she assumes that it was a tough session with Whitey.

The front door slams and she turns with a start, waiting for his door to open and him to show up.

He sees her immediately and does not offer a smile. She frowns but continues, "hey. You weren't at the lot so I came over first."

He barely registers her words, barely glances her way, instead he moves about, feigning occupation with shuffling about and moving his things around. Open closet, take out T-shirt, close closet, go to drawer, then to closet, across room…

She stares at him and wonders why she did not hear the theme to Twilight Zone playing, because she is sure that's where she is now. "What's going on Luke?"

He stops his weird pacing, back towards her.

His laugh sounding odd and falling heavily on the already tense situation, "just figured you have somewhere else to be, with someone else."

She starts, and tilts her head, staring at his ramrod back. She doesn't get it. And he isn't about to divulge it to her. He continues and the muted silence plays the tune of Twilight Zone.

"What the hell?" She finally feels angry enough to stand from where she was seated, on the bed, and moves toward him, pulling his arm and whirling him to face her.

He shrugs and looks at her with eyes not quite glaring, radiating an oppressive hostility she didn't ever think he could possess. Her frown deepens.

He throws her a bone. "Ty."

She catches it, and her eyes rapidly lose its colour. Oh. And then _Oh_. "The date's this Saturday. And why do you care?"

He doesn't have answers. He knows he shouldn't care, not like that. But in the moment, all Lucas sees is her and Ty and she is laughing and they are holding hands and when they feel like it, they kiss, without the worry that they've done something wrong.

"I always do Peyt." He grabs her by the shoulders and pulls her closer. Hoping she could read the frustration and sheer anguish he feels at his situation.

At _their_ situation.

"Oh" she mutters, pulling away, shocked at his admission, and yet not to surprised for she was somewhat expecting it.

They never did platonic.

Pseudo eye conact pre hook-up friendly, pre hook-up flirty classmate friendly, intimate hook-up with cheating on the side…but never just _friendly_. And their efforts after hook-up she is realizing now were becoming a complete bust.

"I have to go." And she leaves him standing there, as unsure as she is.

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	5. Chapter 5

**No reviews for the fourth part. OK, I get it. Next chapter in six weeks time then. : )**

**F i v e**

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She is sitting on her bed, webcam unplugged, drawing. She hears the front door open and doesn't bother. It's been hours since she ran away from him and she knew it was unlikely it was him now.

They never did make-up well either.

Squabbles were extended and drawn out until neither could help it and there was enough time in between for them to use as a buffer and enough time for them to pretend it never happened in the first place. They were masters at affectation; she just wished they didn't have to do it to each other too. But when the feelings were right there in their faces and they could not do anything about it, it was better to let sleeping dogs lie and to walk by.

"Hey!" Nathan sits by her, and she closes her sketchbook. "I thought you'd be at out, with Brooke or something."

She shakes her head and he can tell it was going to be a trying day, she has her sketchpad. "I just popped by to borrow your Stereophonic Cd."

She waves her hand, assuring him that he's welcome to her stash and that today she doesn't have any energy to stop him from purloining them. "Make sure you give them back, or you'll be blacklisted." She added, just to make sure.

He smiles and scuffs her chin playfully. "Ai yai! Capt."

He looks at his watch and figures hanging with her sure beats going to his parents' for dinner or going home. The latter being the last and only resort, he didn't want to remember what he had and what he now doesn't. He remembers Haley like how one remembers the suicide bombers in Iraq, with nothing but quiet ire.

"Wanna go drive around for a bit? We can crank up the volume to Pedal Pusher." He suggests, knowing he can't leave when she's in a funk.

She's still moody and preoccupied, never really having left the bedroom of the boy whom broke her heart and still had the audacity to keep it, with his blue eyes soft and hopeful…so she shakes her head ad looks away, trying to get him to leave.

He urges her, ignoring her complaints.

"Come on! I'll even treat you to a Chubby Hubby scoop of BnJ's?"

She can tell he's trying his best to help and was not going to leave until he gets her out of her funk. Well, that was pretty much a no go but she could meet him halfway and get out of the house. "Fine. But only if it's two scoops."

"You drive a hard bargain Sawyer, pity the client you ever do business with!" And they leave the house, with his lame-o jokes and her trying to smile for him, even if the scene in her head doesn't add up to that she's now looking at…

_I always do Peyt._

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And it was exactly when she finally manages to sound sincere in her laughter that Lucas stumbles upon them as he stands, halfway to her porch, hidden by the shadow shading of the tree.


	6. Chapter 6

I would like to say thank you to bitterkidxsweety, belle1220, abercrombie 18, and Christina for taking the time out to leave me feedback. I always find them to be very useful, especially since I might take from it something and use in my next chapters. : ) This is dedicated to you, and for the girly who wrote "**Surfin' on a Rocket**" please write more Leyton, you are extremely talented and seeing such quality fics makes me want to contribute more!

**Now to answer a question posed to me:**

_Don't makes us wait six weeks for an update, please ;). This story is good, but I have a question - at the end you have I always do Peyt. in italics - i'm assuming it's Nathan thinking it, but what does he always do? I'm sorry if i'm a bit of a moron, but could you explain that? Thanks. Can't wait for the next update. _**Hi, the italic phrase is actually Peyton thinking over Lucas' words to her in the bedroom scene, where he grabs her by the shoulders and pulls her closer. Thanks for taking the effort to ask! Sorry if it wasn't very clear. **

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_Previously… _

_And it was exactly when she finally manages to sound sincere in her laughter that Lucas stumbles upon them as he stands, halfway to her porch, hidden by the shadow shading of the tree._

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She puts on her war paint, a routine she formulated since she was fourteen and went on her first date with Nathan, aid courtesy of _Seventeen_ magazine. First: lay the foundation, second: apply the mascara, then powder up and dap on the eye shadow, Clinique only, finally apply her lip-gloss.

Today, her routine is all wrong and messed up. Her eyes keep tearing up, and the mascara draws crude tar tracks on the sides of her face, and she figures she looks like the sad little clown at the circus whose only purpose is to fall and be laughed at by the cruel unfeeling crowd. She gets it, the sporadic bouts of depression. And she can't say this was unexpected.

The memory of the tummy kisses, coupled with the jilted feeling when she remembers everything after that…Nikki, Brooke, Lucas, Brooke and Lucas…she is all alone really, aside from the constant presence of Nathan recently. Haley had her own life, her own dreams to chase after, and Brooke had Lucas –somewhat- and she was left with her pencils and sketchbook, and imaginary people to talk to.

Lucas would always be there if she called him, but right now, she couldn't. They were weird again. And she still remembers a time when she was a _dyke_ and potential druggie, and he was chasing after his own dreams, his cheerleader girl, her best friend. She can still see herself, on the floor, green frock crumpled, tear tracks and mascara, sees herself in her own room, with the solace of empty hurtful words of Lesbo and Dyke. And he was busy. With his Brooke sham!Friendship fiasco.

It's hard to forget that no one was there to help her pick up the pieces, until all was said and done, and she was fixed, haphazardly, again.

And so she uses a tissue to wipe the black L'oreal mascara track off her face and begins to start over.

She tries on her smile, and hopes Ty wouldn't be so bad. Maybe he'll be what she needed. And if not, then what she wants, for the time being.

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	7. Chapter 7

He plays ball like any other good, talented player. But what makes him stand out is his love for it. He loves it so much, he would rather die than to stop, which is what he's doing now. And it was as he is doing what he loves that his brother spots him.

"Hey Luke."

He stares back, somehow hating the way Nathan seems so familiar with his name. So _benevolent_. He wishes they were enemies again, so that he could justify the hate he has. "Nathan." He greets shortly.

"So instead of shooting hoops, let's hang at my place, it has been awhile since we jammed with the console."

Luke pauses, thinking it over. Here was a friendly invitation, made by his half-brother.

The brother whom he had just seen with Peyton.

Peyton, the girl Lucas really, really likes.

"The one with the hot vamp chick?"

"Yeah, Blood Rayne certainly gives Kate Beckingsale a run for her money." Nathan quips, waiting for bro to walk with him.

"Why not?"

And they slap hands, brothers again.

Even though Peyton was always at the back of both their minds.


	8. Chapter 8

He takes her out for dinner, at the local diner, where Karen serves her coffee and she remembers a different boy, in a different setting. No Ty, no affectations.

"Hey I know this isn't exactly the Ritz, but I hope it's ok."

Her heart falls at the effort he is making. Ty was nothing but a gentleman throughout the course of their date. The quintessential flowers-at-the-door bringer, the hand offered as she steps out of his Miata… yet, she is no lady in need. 

And he is not the right boy.

"It's fine. I wouldn't fit in anyway." She writes off lightly. He smiles and stares into her eyes. She feels the weight of his sentiments, and hopes he sees the absence of hers. Maybe its time to cut their losses before they got too invested in anything pertaining to future dates. 

Before _he_ got too invested anyway.

They have had their dessert, and maybe she might be able to wallow in her room before nine.

"There's a party at Teejay's. I was thinking maybe we could hang out there for a bit. It's too early to take you home anyway. It wouldn't be a proper date."

She feels suffocated, but remembers Nathan would be there later.

And maybe that's ok too.

Sure."


	9. Chapter 9

It was like every other teen party. There was the inexplicable presence of illegal booze, loud music _thump_ thumping, the entanglement of limbs and torsos, and the perfect fit of two bodies in too close a proximity. It was the epitome of the perpetual every-other-week-run-off-the-mill party. Even Peyton's reluctance but solid presence at said party should not be a surprise.

Trapped in the heart of the pulsing human circus, she did what every other person was doing. She danced. The gyrating bodies and flung out arms now a part of her actions. She was lost in the sea of faceless strangers and the steady intake of innocent smelling alcohol did nothing to dissuade her from dancing even more vigorously, even more provocatively. She needed to forget. Forget everything and keep her mind a blank slate. An empty canvass, ripe with potential and nothing much else: potential could not disappoint, unlike so many other things in her messy life.

So here, we find her dancing up against a faceless stranger, Ty already a forgotten blip on her drunken horizon. She smiles back in response to the further grip around her middle, smiles in response to the sweet hot breath at her neck, smiles even when he takes her away from the sea of faceless stranger, to a dark room with but one.

"Baby, if you are as good here as you are out there, we are going to have fun tonight!" She hears as the voice slip a little as the sound of the door closes and locks.

Her intoxicated blood has suddenly drained out of her weak system, and the rush of panic have somehow settled in.

"What are you doing?" She tries to sound stern and focused, but in her drowsy state, can only manage a soft murmur at the sight of the boy taking his trousers off.

"What does it look like? I know you want it just as I do." And he lunges for her, hungry and savage.


End file.
